Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The beginning of the end… an unspoken commotion of the self, that is holding, grasping and breathing deeply so as not to fall into desperation. A halfheartedly attempt to clutch myself to the well known paths I am used to walk… while feeling disappointed of my own fears.Sweating, trembling, hesitating and doubting like a child that is facing the biggest test of her life. The uncontainable need to free myself of the auto-imposed chains that keep me caged and disgruntled.So many plans and dreams to accomplish! So much stuff to disregard and let off!It isn’t simple, it isn’t easy…Sometimes, I want to cry out loud, so the whole world can listen to my apprehension in a desperate attempt to ask for help, to be recognized and then exempted from living a conventional life.

It isn’t simple, it isn’t easy…To stop playing the game as we all know itTo break free and fly without restraintTo go after a fairy taleTo live life as if there is no tomorrow.It isn’t simple, it isn’t easy…

I endeavor to embrace the fear that attempts to keep me safe, with the awareness that it is all part and parcel of who I am. I keep reminding myself that it is OK to be afraid, although that I shall not allow the trepidations to overshadow the will of the self.I wish I could rehearse or rephrase or press rewind every now and then, but reality slaps me on the face, while telling me that there is no such thing as try and error. Then I’m disturbed by the certainty of the “nothingness”: that there is nothing to lose as nothing is really mine. Nothing is permanent… everything is temporal and prone to change.Nothing… nothing… nothing is truthfully what it seems to be, as everything is relatively apparent and conditional to something else.

It is simple, it is easy… all I have to do is to let go and just be, taking a step at a time, enjoying the process and freeing myself from the notion of perpetuity.

The beginning of the end… It is simple, it is easy… but it is also freaking intimidating!

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Don’t you dare put me down!Don’t even try to tell me I can’t do it!Don’t attempt to convince me I'm not good enough!Don’t push me down!

Instead

Do tell me that I can turn every situation into an opportunityDo show me that willpower and perseverance can take me placesDo have faith that I can make it and that the sky isn’t the limitDo love me just the way I am…

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

There are two types of abuse, physical and emotional abuse. Everything can be abused, nature, people, animals, situations, etc, etc. The extent of the damage caused by the abuse varies as it directly depends on how and to whom or what the abuse is inflicted.Sometimes abuse provokes reactions and triggers positive results, as it forces someone to stand by himself/herself. But more often than not, abuse causes long lasting damages, especially when the abuse is inflicted on defenseless beings (nature, children, animals, etc.).Abuse is cruel, unkind, mean, heartless, merciless, brutal, nasty, malicious, etc, etc… it leaves deep scars which are not easy to ill or disguise. We often hear or read that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” or “we attain the strength we have conquered” or “turn your wounds into wisdom”. But how do you explain that to a child that is being abused by his own parents? How do we stop that child from becoming bitter and resentful?When one of my brothers was only fourteen he started living on the streets and with friends that gave him temporal shelter, but he did it out of no choice, since he wasn’t welcome anymore in our “home”.I still remember how he used to be as a child and I can still see his sweet face trying to give me the strength he did not have. I can recall his weak attempts to mend what couldn’t be mended… I still have nightmares about the day that the top of his hand was placed on a hot stove and therefore badly burnt by our stepfather as a punishment for pilfering.From the time he was physically and emotionally abandoned by our parents, his life started going down the ditch, he was always in trouble with the authorities, usually for stealing or drug consumption. At the time he was supposed to be nurtured by his family he was instead fostered by the streets… then his values and principles got distorted and his self-esteem was shut down by the fact that his very own parents did not consider him worth of love and support.When he needed them the most, they turned their faces and lives away from him. They were ashamed and hated him for what he was doing to them; they considered themselves the victims and my brother the perpetrator. They never visited him when in prison or offered him any kind of support, as per their beliefs, he was rotten and getting exactly what he deserved.All I got from him are good and bad memories from our childhood; we did not have the chance to walk into adulthood together as our paths where diverted by our parents’ choices and actions. So today we are complete strangers, despite my early attempts to keep close. Our lives are different, same as our life approach and values. Life events turned him into someone I would rather keep far away from.I constantly write about choices and the responsibility we hold towards everything that happens to us, or that no one can cause you any harm without your consent. I absolutely still stand for that, but as everything else in life, even this fact has its exception… An adult do always have a choice, but a child does not!As adults we have the responsibility to tender for our children, to look after them and nurture them with love and care. We can’t use them as a punching bag to release our very own personal frustrations; we can’t wash our hands from their lives as soon as they turn into a bad corner, as if we have nothing to do with it. We are their guardians, role models and masters; they need us to guide them while walking their way from childhood to adulthood.I keep wondering how my brother’s life could have turned out had our parents been supportive, loving and caring. He had a good heart and was incapable of seeing anyone suffering, especially us; he was our protector and used to take all the blame to save us from our parents’ rage. He was a very intelligent boy and a brilliant student, whose teachers priced constantly and even predicted a bright future for him...But things did turn out totally different, his good heart was smashed and his bright future destroyed by the abuses he was constantly subjected to. As a child he didn’t have a choice but to believe what he was told: good for nothing and a burden to his parents. He did try to prove them wrong and alleviate the best he could the burden he was, by working in a factory at a tender age and neglecting what he loved the most: his studies.But it wasn’t enough; nothing he did satisfy our parents’ resentment, so they kept pushing and pushing until they got what they always wanted –rid of him and blaming him for that.Until today our parents are unable to see the role they played in his life, they keep asking themselves: “What went wrong? He never saw us stealing or consuming drugs; for sure he got all the bad genes from his biological father’s side!”

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

When I’m gone, all that will be left behind will be memories, great, good and bad memories… but, just memories, kept and told by those remembering me.The material world I fought so hard to build, upgrade and sustain will become an asset to be distributed among my relatives; some may go to charity while others may be sold to strangers. The minute I breathe my very last gulp of air, all the things I worry about will stop existing. The sorrows that keep me awake for several consecutive nights will vanish; my concerns on how the future will be will evaporate. The past that keeps hunting me down will fade away, my self-esteem issues will become nonsense, my insecurities and fears will dwindle as I become a collection of memories kept and told by others…

When I’m gone there will be no more opportunities waiting for me to take a risk, there will be no more chances to reinvent myself, there will be no time for regrets.When I’m gone I will only be a tale being told every now and then. I will have no control over what will be remembered of me, or the way the anecdote is told. I can be remembered for how much or little I used to possess, the family and friends I left behind, how many languages and cultures I used to know, how short or tall I was. Some may probably remember my travels around the world and the great tales I used to tell. While others will chose to remember my attitude towards life and how much fun or not I used to be.But, how much does all that really matter, if I will be gone and I will only be a memory in the mind of those who knew me?

When I’m gone I will only be a thought, a memory or a spark of light into someone life just for a while!Should this bother me? Should I live my life pursuing materialism and power? Should I let the past spoil my life or the future distract me from living?What is real and what is not?

Greed, supremacy, the past and the future are the demons that keep me away from who I really should be. They are the mirages that keep me unconscious and prisoner of an unreal world, in the belief that I can finally achieve immortality.

I want the freedom of the self back! I have to repossess what is really mine, I have to conquer captivity and grow to be adventurous, risk taker, tender, independent, rebel and crazy in love with life…

Then I come across the irony of it all, that despite my anger and anguish I’m the sole creator of the demons governing my life… I’m the one holding the key that unlocks my self-imposed imprisonment. I’m the one and only… yes I’m.

So... while I’m here I must do something, I should smash into pieces my own barriers, I must disregard the fears holding me back.I have to stop behaving as if living is only breathing; I ought to stop living in such a limited way!